Archive for keltoi

Whispers

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 15/11/2017 by GeoSolus

Plume Test 1

A young student of the mind spent her spare time in nature to clear her lungs and reset her priorities.
After class she would stroll out of the city to the edge of an ancient forest that had been thriving well before the first history books were written. It had an air of mystery to it that appealed to her sensibilities as she could almost hear long forgotten legends being whispered through rustling leaves…

Primal Tool

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , on 12/11/2017 by GeoSolus

Plume Silo

A long shining black feather floated down from the heavens as the bard strolled in to a clearance in the ancient forest. He watched it sway and gently land on deep green grass as he approached with a casual strut. Picking it up he examined it quickly from left to right then dug deep in to his pocket, pulled out a small knife and sliced a nib in to the shaft. Then, holding it aloft he said:

“With you I shall write about your greatest adventure!”

From A Murder And The Pack (Day)

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , on 02/11/2017 by GeoSolus

The Raven Test 1

When his heart faltered she took flight in search of his spirit…

From A Murder And The Pack (Night)

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , on 02/11/2017 by GeoSolus

The Wolf Test 1

He left his beating heart at the edge of the forest then ventured in to the shadows…

Nimbus

Posted in Visual Art with tags , , on 17/12/2013 by GeoSolus

Stage 4

Stage 4

Run With The Wolves

Posted in Writing with tags , on 16/05/2012 by GeoSolus

I danced with the wild children in my early years. From the quarries to the forest we ran feeling hunted by a life we didn’t want to lead. Our innocence lost in violent homes, we clutched to the freedom found in the wilderness and cursed the shadow of Man.

Over time we grew and learned to forget but as we forgot we became the man casting the shadow.

Baen Earie

Posted in Writing with tags , on 14/04/2012 by GeoSolus

Through woods I wandered between pine and oak. The greens, the browns, the shades of grey, smoke screened the lost blue sky and to the hills I headed. Far from the great white asylum and the village of flames.

The day was mine. Saturn would be filling the sky come nightfall but I had a few hours left until then. So I ventured deeper in to the wilderness with a small tabby cat for company…

The Sentinel’s Nimbus

Posted in Writing with tags on 08/02/2012 by GeoSolus

It was an early afternoon and Charlie was on his way to do a pick up in a suburban area of the city. As he was walked past houses that could only be differentiated by the colour of their front doors, he noticed an old man learning on a spade and scratching his head. He was standing in the centre of a well kept square of grass boxed in by shrubs. He seemed to be mumbling and had a perplexed look across his face. Charlie was just about to pass him by when he heard the old man say: “Excuse me young Sir but what does that symbol on your arm represent?” Charlie stopped walking and confusingly looked at the bare fabric of his shirt sleeve while the old man said: “The tattoo under that shirt. What does it symbolise?”

Charlie turned cold and with a glint of ice in his eye he asked the old man where he knew him from. The old man grinned displaying a row of uneven teeth crossing a spectrum of shades from yellow to brown.

“At ease young Sir!”

“Forget about your pick up and come inside with me for a cup of tea and a chat”

“You like tea I know and you need to know about that symbol on your arm.”

“Besides, if you go to that pick up it will be your last. So be a good soldier and do what you’re told!”

Charlie stood frigid staring at the grinning old man. He could hear him speak but his face was not moving. The two faced off, still as marble until two black ravens landed either side of the old man. The broad grin fell in to a stony face and with one slow movement the old man’s arm gestured towards the front door of the house behind him.

Satie

Posted in Writing with tags , on 25/12/2011 by GeoSolus

This old heart doesn’t beat like it once did

It falters and doubts and regrets

This old heart doesn’t have the strength it once had

It’s rhythm now broken by distance and neglect

Pumping bad blood and an ancient poison

Lost in illusions, lost

Forsaken

The knot of old ways undone

For fun

For an instant to remember

Slowly forgotten

As life goes on

Distance

Posted in Writing with tags on 29/11/2011 by GeoSolus

The flutter and glide of dragonflies

Hypnotic dance by the riverside

 

A warm summer’s day buzzing with wildlife. Fish schooling their young just under the surface of still crystal water. An adder slowly slides in to the undergrowth that holds the banks together.

 

Far from the screams and tortures of home

I sit by myself, yet never alone